The Starbucks Demon
by Esperanza Fuega
Summary: (Not to be taken seriously.) Karos wets the bed, Cordy doesn't get chopsticks, and all Angel wants to do is read his book...
1. Act I

So, this is my silly story among all the depressing things. I guess the coffee just rather got to me. Instead of boring you with a crazy little disclaimer about Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon, which you've already heard a thousand million times, I made up a cute little ditty.  
  
_There once was some coffee from Seattle,  
  
That attracted the people like cattle,  
  
It spread like _that_ and covered the map,  
  
And all the small cafés skedaddled.  
  
_Point being, I own neither Starbuck's, Inc., the characters of "Angel" or anything else. All I own is my TV, which is currently playing Breakfast at Tiffany's.   
  
Enjoy!  
  
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"All I'm saying is, we don't really _need_ a...what was it?"  
  
"An espresso machine," Cordelia said, a note of exasperation coming into her voice. "And yes we do! We get your blood for you!"  
  
"Yeah, but I _need_ the blood. You don't need the expressy thing," Angel said.   
  
"Espresso! And we do. It wakes us up, um...we work better when we're awake!"  
  
"As much as I hate to say it, Cordelia's right," Wesley said, not looking up from his book. "If we had espresso, we would be more alert." He glanced up finally, adjusting his glasses. "More ready to fight."  
  
Angel ran his hand through his hair, heaving a sigh. "But...it's so _expensive._"  
  
"Not that much. I mean, your jacket was more expensive," Cordy pointed out.  
  
"My jacket was an investment," Angel said defensively. "Your coffee thingy? I don't think so."  
  
"Oh, please," Cordy said. "You only bought the jacket because I recommended it. Now I'm recommending the espresso machine."  
  
Angel flexed his fingers, looking ready to give in. Cordelia quickly considered her options. Cutesy? Never worked on Angel. Pissy? He'd laugh. Sexy? Oh, God. Words could not describe how humiliating that would be.  
  
Pissy it was, then. A good belly-laugh was just what Angel needed, after all. And Wesley would never let her live it down if she played the come-hither card.  
  
"Listen, buddy!" she snapped, shaking her finger in his face. He looked slightly surprised. "We. Need. Coffee. Strong coffee. Good coffee --- better than that plastic Wal-Mart refugee you call a coffeepot could _ever_ produce. And I want it _now_. Any questions?"  
  
He still looked shocked, his mouth open slightly. "...What brand do you recommend?"  
  
Wes shook his head, muttering something that sounded akin to 'twit' underneath his breath. Her head held high, Cordy chose to ignore this comment, although the quiet snicker Angel let out indicated that _he_ had heard it.

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Cordelia and Wes arrived at the Hyperion at different times. Wes was a six A.M. up and at 'em kind of guy. The Hyperion should have considered itself very blessed indeed if Ms. Chase should choose to saunter through the front lobby before three o'clock bearing shopping bags and a cup of coffee from the nearest Starbucks. This was one of life's unchanging, unvarying constants.   
  
So imagine Angel's, and Wes's, and indeed the Hyperion itself's surprise when, just after 8 in the morning, Cordelia sailed through the doors, no shopping bags from Rodeo Drive attached to her person.  
  
"Cordelia?" Wes said -- Angel had frozen, glass of blood halfway up to his lips. "Are you feeling... quite all right?"  
  
Cordy gave him a 'Well, duh!' look. "Don't I look okay?"  
  
"Exceptional," Wes parried. Realizing he was still staring, Angel shook himself out of it.  
  
"Did your clock, um, get messed up or something? Because, um, Cordy, it's ---" Cordelia cut Angel off with a bright grin.  
  
"Eight-fifteen. I know. I wanted to be here about the time Wes gets here, but that just didn't happen." She smiled again. "Baby steps, you know?"  
  
"Uh...huh." Angel nodded. "Baby steps. Right. Baby-stepping all over the place. Gotcha."  
  
"What Angel's trying to say is, 'Why any kind of steps?' What happened to four o'clock after shopping?" Wesley translated. "Frankly, I'm curious as well."  
  
"I don't know." Cordelia grinned. "I've just had all this energy since last night. Seven or eight triples will do that to you."  
  
"...Right." Wes stuck his hand on Cordelia's forehead. "I think it's possession."  
  
"You guys!" She slapped his hand away. "It's not possession! It's _energy_. Caffeine. _Starbuck's!_"  
  
The two males looked at each other, identical evil grins lighting up their faces.   
  
"Possession," Angel agreed.  
  
"I am not possessed!" Cordelia snapped.  
  
"That's just the demon talking," Wes said. "The big, nasty demon that can only be killed by..."  
  
"Expressie from your very own...er...thing! We had it put in your office this morning."  
  
"How did you guys get it so fast?" Cordy asked. "I mean, you only agreed to it yesterday..."  
  
"Well, um..." Angel looked down, scratching his head. "It...uh...fell off a truck?"  
  
"You guys stole for me! That's so sweet... And at the same time, kinda creepy."  
  
"We could take it back if you like," Wes told her.  
  
"Oh, no. Not that creepy." She squealed in delight, running into her office and closing the door. The sound of a bolt lock sliding home was heard, and Cordelia's excited cries of "Yes! It works!" could be heard.  
  
"After we got chased by thirteen security guards, I kind of expected a thank you," Angel said, his head cocked toward the door.  
  
"Yes." Wesley rubbed at a sore spot on his jaw. "Those rent-a-cops know how to throw a punch."  
  
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So, did you like it? It's meant to be silly. I hope I made you grin at least once. Tell me if I did and tell me if I didn't -- there's lots more stupidity ahead. Review! Critiques, constructive comments, and things like that are always adored --- along with the simple reviews of "I liked this!" Those make me specially happy.


	2. Act II

Well, here we are. I told you I'd update regularly. To my reviewers: You guys rock. I wouldn't do this if it weren't for people telling me what they got out of what I put in. I don't even know you but you're all wonderful, dahlings! XD Reviewers make the fanfic world go round. (And ChArMeDcRaZiChIcK: Yes, stupidity does, in fact, kick major ass. Maybe someday I'll publish the true tale of pretty, pretty princesses and quarters on FictionPress.)  
Also: am starting a mailing list. Email and I'll put you on the notification list. You'll be emailed when a new chapter goes up. If just one person signs up, it'd make my year. xD

I guess I should get on with the story, yes?  
  
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It was possible that Cordelia loved espresso more than shopping. In the pie chart of her mind, it seemed as if the current percentage of Things She Cared About was 50% coffee, 48% shopping, and a tiny 2% sliver of "other" --- that being Angel Investigations. She usually arrived when Angel was dragging his ass in from his night's work, her smile bright and annoyingly perky as she handed him a cup of warmed pig's blood.  
  
"Good morning, boss!" she chirped.  
  
"Graungh." Hurting from the smackdown a group of demons had almost successfully laid on him, Angel fell into a chair, gulping at his drink. "Nuhsugha?" Angel had found that he tolerated the lower-grade blood better after a couple of teaspoons of sugar.  
  
"Well, of _course_ I didn't put sugar in it. I couldn't. We're out."  
  
This abruptly snapped Angel into a cold, harsh, sugarless reality. "But Wes just brought in a five pound bag of it yesterday!"  
  
"Espresso requires a lot of sugar to be drinkable."  
  
"Not five pounds' worth!" Rather than look at Cordelia in the fear he'd strangle his link to the Powers That Be, he glared at his glass of blood like it was the porker's fault. "Cordelia, you have got to stop this."  
  
"I don't see why -- it's just a drink. What could it hur--"  
  
Two things happened in the same moment, and one right after. Wes entered the room as Cordy had a KO of a vision; the occurrence after that was that her coffee cup flew behind her, hitting Wesley in the head, had he not ducked with his catlike reflexes. Yeah, right. The poor Brit got clobbered. Dazed, he only just managed to keep Cordelia from hitting the floor. With Angel's help, they (none too deftly) maneuvered her onto a couch, after first hitting two walls and a coffee table.Wes cocked his head, standing above her. "She's usually awake by now."  
  
"Yeah. You think she hit her head? Maybe we should poke her with a stick.""Angel, if Cordelia hit her head, someone dropped her on it," Wesley said. "She's coming around now."  
  
Angel put back the ornate quarterstaff with a sigh.  
  
"Guys...um... corner of Oak and...Madeira... tonight, just after sunset. It's...not small. Big." She heaved a sigh. "Scaly. Purple."

"Purple. Cause, you know, purple's the sort of color that strikes fear into the hearts of the populace." Angel rolled his eyes. "What is this guy, Barney?"  
  
"Someone's cranky this morning..." Wes said under his breath.  
  
"Yes," Angel replied, "someone is. Someone was nearly gored oh, about --" he glanced at the clock "-- two hours ago then came home to his own house and found that someone else ate all his sugar. So yes, someone is cranky. But I don't know who. It's not me."

"Angel..." Cordy said, putting her hand out. "Don't..." He had the grace to look a little abashed.  
  
"Cordy's right," Wes said. "Let's go and let her rest. Do you need anything, Cordelia?"  
  
She shook her head 'no' and moved slightly, trying to get more comfortable. They left her, Wes twitching the blinds shut.

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The two men didn't see Cordelia for the entire day, Angel spending it in front of the TV, glued to 'Thelma and Louise' and Jackie Chan reruns while Wesley tried to block out the movie noise with a demon encyclopedia. By the time the sun was sinking past the horizon, Angel was twitching to duplicate Jackie's moves, and Wes even went so far as to admit that he could use a break from the inactivity as well.  
  
They crept out past a still-out Cordy, after Angel had scribbled a hasty "Went slay be back will bring Thai" Post-It and stuck it to her forehead. Hopping into the Thunderbird after loading their stakes and swords, and headed to Oak and Madeira.  
  
"A studio? Cordelia sent us to a studio?" Angel almost laughed.  
  
"Movies today have demonic influences," Wes said, feeling the need to defend Cordelia's vision. "Look at Home Alone. It was so bad it had to have demonic influences."  
  
"Nah, one of the producers sold their soul." At Wes's curious glance, Angel really did laugh. "What? You hear these things."  
  
"Right. I wonder what they're filming here..." Wes got out, walking to the door.  
  
"I hope it's an action movie," Angel said, following. "Maybe they could use another stuntman." He feigned a karate pose, hands stuck out at odd angles. "Huwaaaaaaa!" He smirked. "What do you think? Am I the next Pierce Brosnan?"

"I think if you don't straighten up I'm going to have to find a broom to sweep up your remains." Angel quieted. "Good."  
  
As they neared the door, a security guard rounded the corner. "I'm sorry," he said. "You have to have permission to be in there."  
  
Angel smoothly intervened, putting a hand on Wes' shoulder. "Excuse me, buddy. It's just my friend, here -" he jerked his head toward Wes "- is fresh off the boat from London and he's curious as to what you're filming here."  
  
"Oh," the security guard said, giving Wes a look of disdain specially reserved for tourists and puppy-kickers. "Nothing you two would be interested in. It's 'Barney; The Musical.'"  
  
"Right," Wes said. "Thank you, then. Have a nice night." He gave Angel a nasty look as they headed back to the car. "'Fresh off the boat'? Does anyone actually say that any more?"  
  
"I wouldn't know." Angel started the car up, accelerating out of the parking lot. "Barney. _Barney._"  
  
"So are we still going to..." Wes was silenced as Angel ruthlessly cut off a red Corvette, ignoring the driver's shouts.  
  
"No. Anyone who's in league with Barney deserves to die." Angel stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched.  
  
"What do you have against Barney?" Wes looked out the window, hoping that such a casual question would hopefully defuse Angel's anger.  
  
"When I was in Sunnydale, and shut up in that mansion all day, I had a TV. Unfortunately, the thing only got one channel. One time, they showed Barney for a week straight. A week _straight_, Wes."  
  
Wes grimaced. "What happened?"  
  
"I broke the TV. Didn't have any entertainment at all after that, but at least no one sang that stupid song. Ugh. _Barney_."  
  
Okay, now would be a good time for a change of subject. "Back to the Hyperion?"

"Gotta pick up the Thai." The rest of the ride was in silence, save for the few instructions Angel barked at the drive-thru window. Arriving back at the Hotel in record time, Angel stormed through the doors, nearly taking one off its hinges. Through the window in Cordy's office, he could see her firing up that blasted machine, holding her cup (Angel didn't see how pink bunnies on a mug could improve coffee, but Cordy swore by it) under the spout expectantly.  
  
It moved. Just a fraction, a twitch, a tic. But still: _the thing fucking moved. _  
  
Angel flung the bag of Thai food into Wes's arms. "Hold it!"  
  
"Wha-" His boss was no longer beside him, having instead made it through the small window by some miracle of God, the laws of physics and common sense having decided to take a picnic.

Cordelia was flung into him, and Wes decided that his own personal Lady Luck had joined the forces that governed the universe on their picnic.   
  
"Wes?" Cordy sounded slightly awed.  
  
"I'm fine, thanks." He extracted the bag of food and handed it to her. She took it without comment, then pointed to her office.

Her friend took off his glasses and polished them, slipping them back on. He decided he must be delusional, because there was just no way Wesley Wyndham-Pryce could be seeing what he was seeing.  
  
The espresso machine -- now looking like something out of _Star Trek_ -- was fighting Angel.   
  
"Where the hell did you guys _get_ that thing?" Cordy asked.

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And so that's the chapter. Inspired by coffee, written by me, and haunted by Barney. Sonuvabitch always winds up in my thoughts at least once a day.  
  
So, what did you think? I hope it was all right. I was incredibly tired when I wrote it.  
  
XD Oh, and I don't own anything. As usual.


	3. Act III

"Well, um... it was all Angel's fault!" Wes stammered out.  
  
"Hey, Wes? Can we save the blame game for a time when something is _not_ trying to rip out my entrails?" Angel sent a punch into the demon's metal side. "Owww!" He had left a sizable dent, but the demon, which still looked freakishly like a regular espresso machine (if they regularly have legs, arms, and a head), didn't feel a thing, instead hitting him in the stomach with a force that sent Angel flying into the wall, leaving another sizable dent there.  
  
A high-pitched, enraged sound somewhere between a caterwaul and a Scottish battle-cry came from Cordelia, and before Wes could stop her, she had jumped onto the demon, kicking it and...wait, she couldn't possibly--- yes, she was biting it.

His co-workers gone mad, Wesley did the only thing he could think to do. He went and got the Holy Water, locked in a hidden compartment underneath his desk --- he'd put it in there for an emergency, like if Angel went crazy and had to be stopped.  
  
This definitely counted as an emergency, he thought as he unscrewed the lid. By the time he returned, the situation had taken a decided turn for the worse. Angel and Cordy (whose livid strength seemed to be fading) were both getting their asses handed to them.

"A coffee machine is thumping you. Just thought you should know that," he said, splashing some of the holy liquid at the demon. It landed on Angel instead, the flesh making a sickening sound as it burned.  
  
"Ah, ah! Get it off! Get it off! Get it _off me_!" He retreated from the fight, squirming uncontrollably. Wes took the time to pour the rest of the water on the demon --- it sizzled, smoked, and went boom, in roughly that order. Feeling very heroic and full of himself, the Brit dragged Cordy away from the ..." she said dazedly. that?"  
  
"It was magic super coffee. We should have expected something like that." Angel winced, and Cordelia seemed to realize he was hurt.  
  
"Oh, you poor thing," she said, laying a comforting hand over the burnt skin. He snarled, and Cordy withdrew very quickly. "Well, someone's a bit touchy. And it wasn't even _your_ espresso machine that went all psycho-slap-happy."  
  
Wes sighed. Crazy Americans. And Irish. The Irish were just plain mad, there was no other word for it. "I'm going to go have a look and see what I can find out." Shaking his head, he walked away.

"What's _his_ problem?" he heard Cordy ask.  
  
"He's British. They're just plain crazy."

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The morning passed uneventfully -- which also meant no new cases. Angel was beating the hell out of a punching bag, also known as "training," and Wesley was reading. Well, some things really were unvarying constants.  
  
Cordelia walked into the offices holding two Styrofoam cups and a couple bags. Wes threw a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, dismissed her as a non-client, and went back to _Ye Olde Musty, Dusty Demons_. One of the cups was shoved underneath his nose, and he took his time putting a bookmark in the book and setting it down, before removing the offending cup and looking at it hesitantly.  
  
"Relax, it's not arsenic. It's tea from that one place - oh, you know - the one in Chinatown?"  
  
"LA's Chinatown is in Pasadena." Still, Wes took the cup, fighting not to grimace as he took a cautious sip.  
  
"Well, there was a gas station shaped like a pagoda, so I thought--"  
  
"'I thought' from Cordelia Chase. Now there's a first...let me write this down..."  
  
"Just because I don't have encyclopedias shoved in my face all day doesn't mean I'm an airhead, Mr. Encyclopedia-Face!"  
  
"No, but that last comment earns you a kindergartener title. And this tea is awful, if you can call it tea."  
  
A dangerous light glinted in Cordy's eyes, a vein in her forehead performing the Electric Slide to Mambo no. 5. "Ex_cuse_ me? I tried to do something _nice_ for you, you stupid British-"  
  
"And you stuffed it up, as usual," Wesley said arrogantly. Cordelia plowed on with her tirade as if he hadn't even opened his mouth. (The night after, when Wesley thought about it, he decided he might as well have kept his trap shut for all the good it did.)  
  
"Pig! Now you owe me five bucks and-"  
  
"Actually, he owes me five bucks. You owe me three hundred and a really good excuse." There was just the tiniest glimmer of sweat on Angel's face and neck; otherwise, he looked completely unruffled --- besides that almost-livid look on his face.  
  
"I bought office supplies. And _one_ new skirt. So sue me, Mr. Broody Pants." Cordy took a few wrinkled bills from her purse and threw them at Angel. He watched disinterestedly as they fluttered to the ground at his feet.  
  
"And after that striking display of maturity..." Wesley narrated, taking a sip of his tea and nearly spitting it back out straightaway, but forcing it down with a smile more suited to a skeleton. "Mm, smashing good tea, Cordy. Thank you." Cordelia only crossed her eyes. As she turned away, Wesley stuck out his tongue. Whether it was in distaste or retaliation will remain unseen.  
  
Cordelia had gone home after that incident, citing a headache and a fear of catching the stupid that was spreading around Angel Investigations. Wes and Angel had taken to doing their activities of the previous day -- books and old movies, respectively. Angel was drinking from a thankfully opaque container as Wes came in, sitting down on the couch beside him.  
  
"Ugh, move."  
  
"Pardon?" Wes asked, looking at his boss with an eyebrow raised.  
  
"Move. It's...not right. You need the buffer space." Angel was sitting on the arm of the couch.  
  
"The buffer space?"  
  
"The buffer space! Your buffer! Your bubble! And for God's sake, stop eating garlic!"  
  
"I thought that myth wasn't true." Wes scooted away indulgingly, sticking another handful of garlicky popcorn in his mouth.  
  
"It's not, I just have heightened senses." Angel sighed, stretching out on the couch Wes had vacated. "I'm also really bored. Where is Cordy when you need her?" Wes kept his mouth shut; wisely, in Angel's opinion. The vampire groaned, reaching for the remote. "Find out anything on the demon?"  
  
"Other than nothing? Sorry, no. Hey!" Angel changed the channel to Jerry Springer. "I was watching that movie!"  
  
"What was it about?" Angel challenged.  
  
Wes faltered for a moment: "Gorgeous Japanese girls?"  
  
"They were Chinese. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is a Chinese movie."  
  
"Fine, what's this about, then?"  
  
Angel squinted at the tiny screen. "Tranny grannies, horse lovers, and..." He laughed out loud. "Cousins who do more than kiss."  
  
"I believe my brain just melted." Wes looked away from the screen in disgust. Angel flipped it back to his movie quickly.  
  
"Yeah, that was what I thought, too."  
  
The phone rang. They looked at each other, deciding who would answer it with a mental arm wrestle.  
  
Wes lost. "Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless. ... Cordy? No, calm down, calm down, it's all right. ... Oh, I say. ... Yes, you're right, that is highly abnormal...on our way." He hung up. "The Starbucks on Fourth just went out of control. No casualties yet, but it could get ugly."  
  
Angel jumped up. "Taking the sewers. Don't forget the holy water." He shrugged his coat on, retreating into the inner recesses of the Hyperion.  
  
Wes gave the TV screen a long last look. "Kung-fu, I bid thee adieu." He rushed out, jogging towards his destination.  
  
He never noticed the sleek-looking black car that pulled out of its parking space across the street, following him on his route.  
  
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A/N: Okay, thanks to all who reviewed. Third chapter, yay! Sorry for the length between chapter two and this, but life just kind of jerked me away from the computer. It hasn't been that long, right? There are only two more chapters to go, so stay tuned!


	4. Act IV

Author's Note: This chapter is out sooner than I expected. I had it written -- and it was a lot different -- but the reboot of the computer kinda erased it. They have a tendency to do that. This chapter was written at four AM; you'll pardon any non sequiturs, I hope. Enjoy! I have to say this to Imzadi, since you've been so persistent: Happy now? XD Just kidding. Thanks to those who have reviewed! One more chapter, plus epilogue (already written) of this madness left! And if you haven't reviewed yet, why not?

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"Is an iced frappuccino too much to ask for? Because, really, I don't think so." Cordelia whipped her head around, snapping at the demon who held her wrists. "Be a little more gentle and a little less bone-crushing, yeah? I'm trying to talk here. So where was I? Yeah. Just because I work for freaking champions, I get nothing. Not one shiny happy moment. God, I wish I was born in New York. Sunnydale? No fun. Ugh. I bet this is all Buffy Summers' fault. It always is. God, will you _let go of me_!?" Instead of being released, Cordy was roughly thrown into a chair.  
  
"Now sit still and be quiet, or I will have to gag you." The demon in front of her crossed his (her?) arms. The thing was smiling a creepy, Hannibal Lecter smile. "We don't want that, do we? Bad for customer relations, bad for, well, not bad for my headache. Will you shut up, or do I have to rip out your tongue and choke you with it?"  
  
"Shutting!" Cordelia helpfully extended her arms behind the chair to be tied. "One question?"  
  
"For chrissakes, what?"  
  
"Why? I mean, this whole tying up your customers spiel? Not a big draw. I would suggest firing your marketing team."  
  
"Wow, you're really dumb. Did the big scary viscous pus-demon bit not sink through?" Her interrogator tried to look fierce and scary --- it ended up leaving a little puddle on the floor.  
  
"Big? Yeah. Viscous? If I knew what that meant, most likely. Pus demon? Yep. Scary? I don't think so. Again, your marketing team could use a little shaking up." Cordy smiled winningly. "I'm open for employment, since my boss seems to have forgotten about me."  
  
"Why would I waste time and money hiring you to fetch coffee, when I could just sacrifice you to Karos?" He smirked. "Look, I always like to know people I'm about to kill. In the corporate world, it helps. I'm Billy. What's your name?"  
  
"Cordelia. Karos? I'm guessing he's not a vegetarian." Cordy sighed. "It's always the scary demons. Never a nice demon who invites you over for tea. No, cause that would so shatter Murphy's Law..."  
  
"Well," Billy said, brandishing a sword. "This has been fun, but you're annoying me now. I'll kill you guys first, and then I'll go hunt out Angelus."  
  
"Angelus?" Cordelia said quickly. "Big, kind of broody guy?"  
  
"Don't tell me you know him," Billy said, leaning on the sword. "He doesn't fraternize with humans."  
  
"Uh, you missed a memo somewhere. Angelus is Angel now. Like, souled and everything. Really. He's of no use to you. All he's got is---"  
  
"Cordelia!" Angel shouted, smashing through the door with Wesley.  
  
"Really, really good timing." Cordelia smirked arrogantly. "Your pus-ridden ass is so kicked."  
  
And the fight was on. Six pus-demons against one vampire and a British guy with bad reflexes? The odds were not good.  
  
"Wes," Angel grunted, jumping back from a wave of pus. "Get Cordy, and get out."  
  
"No, we're winning."  
  
"Winning? You call this winning?" He got caught square in a pus-fall of...well, pus, staring at Wesley.  
  
"I call it winning. It's how we won the American Revolution."  
  
"Newsflash, Wesley; you lost that one." Angel wiped at the pus, looking ready to gag. "God, you need to stop reading so many demon books. They're seriously hurting your brainwaves."  
  
"Someone said the same thing about crack once, and I find it has no side effects at all." Wes swallowed some of the pus. "Mm, pussy."  
  
Angel backed off, not without haste. "Who are you and what have you done with the real Wesley? Never mind, I don't want to know." He got into a fight far, far away from his British comrade, mentally shaking his head. Pussy? Honestly. Wesley was on something, all right. Perhaps it was booze; Angel found it highly doubtful that Wes could afford crack.  
  
The battle went downhill from there. Every time they cut one of the demons, pus gushed out, making it extremely hard to keep any sort of good footing. Covered in the slick goop, Angel felt he was going to vomit in about three seconds. Grossest thing he'd ever done, including his stints as Angelus, hands down. No contest. God, how skuzzy.  
  
"You guys need some help?" Cordy twisted her head around to look at the doorway. Three people behind him, and wearing what her experienced eyes recognized as a suit that cost roughly a Ferrari and a half, was Lindsey McDonald.  
  
"Oh, that's great. We're losing, and now we got Wolfram and Hart to kick our asses too." Angel groaned, hacking at a demon and losing his footing again, sliding right under the fountain of pus that erupted from his blow.  
  
"Ooh, that's gonna stink in the morning," Cordelia narrated.  
  
"You two wannabes go hit the showers. Johannes, Josef, and Joey?" He nodded to the three men behind him, and they fanned out, laying a serious smack on the demons.  
  
"Coulda done that," Angel groused. "Really." He untied Cordy -- who held her breath when he came near her, and was turning blue before he left -- and grabbed his blanket. "Really, coulda."  
  
"I don't get it," Cordelia said. "Why are you here? Isn't Starbucks like, one of your big clients?"  
  
"Yeah. And I love their coffee. So?" Lindsey turned back to the mess. "Ugh." He grabbed his cell phone. "Send me a team of memory modifiers, and a few very good janitors."  
  
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"I don't get it," Cordy said again.  
  
"There's a lot you don't get, Cordy. Basic kindergarten skills, the alphabet, the multiplication skills. One of the things I don't get? The creamy stuff in the Oreos. What is it, really?" Wesley giggled, continuing his rant. "It's white, but it's surrounded by black! Why isn't it gray?"  
  
"Wesley, I ask you this once and only once before I disembowel you. Will you please shut _up_!?" Angel roared.  
  
Wesley was silent.  
  
"Karos," Cordy said. "Karos was supposed to come and eat us."  
  
"Well, maybe Billy Boy got the word out that it wasn't safe, and Karos gave up."  
  
"That's the Hallmark version, yeah. But in this world, I doubt it. Where's Karos?"  
  
"Who cares? We saved the people, that's what matters."  
  
"Where's Waldo?" Wes giggled.  
  
"You're going the right way for a lack of intestines," Angel warned. Wesley was silent once more.  
  
"We'll fight this Karos when and if he comes again. Until then, we won't worry about it."  
  
"It's not right... Like that bogus vision I got? It just... It doesn't add up. We've got two and two, but instead of four, we get--"  
  
"Trouble," Angel warned.  
  
"Gah, stop doing that! I have these really good lines I think up, and then you go and ruin them!" Cordelia protested. "Honestly, you big line ruiner, grow up."  
  
"No, we do seriously have trouble. Look." He pointed toward the door.  
  
A little boy was standing at the door. His pink-cheeked face was nothing if not innocent looking -- at first glance. Then, the glancer noticed other things. Like the fact that his hands weren't hands --- they were claws, the skin on his arms smoothly melding into purple scales. That a respectable looking tail the same color of his claws came out of the seat of his bib overalls. And lastly, that his eyes were a deep, demonic red.  
  
"Where's my meal?" it bawled. "I am Karos, almighty demon God of death and destruction. When I want my meal, I want it _now!_ Guess what? I want my meal! And I think someone needs to change my diapie soon."  
  
Angel looked at Cordelia. Wes giggled.  
  
"It's cute!" Wesley said.  
  
"I think it's time for me to head home, boss, have a nice night!" Cordelia ran for it, Angel dropping in front of her and cutting her off.  
  
"It's safe to say you'll be putting in extra hours."  
  
"Why me? This is sexist! I have a ghost to get back to! He misses me!" Cordy tried to push past him to no avail.  
  
"We stay here. All of us." He glared at Wesley, who was creeping out the back.  
  
"Bugger," Wes said, putting his pouting face on.  
  
"I AM KAROS, AND I WANT MY FOOD!"  
  
"Dammit," Cordelia sighed. "All right, but I'm getting paid for this one."  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 


	5. Act V

Author's Notes: This was supposed to be endgame. Honest. Last chapter --- well, the epilogue notwithstanding. But I wrote it in two points of view, and it was too long. So now, there will be seven chapters of craziness! You're so lucky. The "Click-click-bloody-click-pancakes!"line is from Family Guy. No harm intended. Also, floor tile? It's my laugh phrase. I've laughed whenever I've heard it for two years now, so no one else can. XD

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"I am the great and mighty Karos, and I want a snack!" The demon tugged on Cordy's hand gently, looking up at her with big red eyes. "Now, mortal slave!"  
  
"What's the magic word?" Cordy shot back, spreading butter on some toast. "No magic word, no cookie. That's the way it works in this dimension, chief."  
  
"This dimension sucks! I wanna go home!" Karos pouted, a tear welling up in its eyes. "I will be missed by my acolytes! You must send me back, or ten million of my warriors will use your weak human body for target practice!" It stamped its foot. "I WANT A COOKIE! YO QUIERO COOKIE! J'AIME COOKIE! CLICK-CLICK-BLOODY-CLICK-COOKIE! NOW!!"  
  
"That's not the magic word," Cordelia said patiently. "You have to ask nicely to get the cookie."  
  
"I am the god Karos! I do not ask nicely, I take and kill! Give me a cookie, inferior slime, before I rip your entrails out and use them to festoon my holy sleeping place."  
  
"You mean that crib? Sorry if I don't shake in terror." Cordy took a bite of her toast. "I'll make you something good if you say please."  
  
"I do not negotiate with lesser beings, especially those with an IQ lower than the slug-frogs of the swamps of Dyscambin'ar."  
  
"Do you want another time-out, Karos? I figured the tenth one would make you understand that the only lesser being around these parts is you."  
  
"Foolish wench! You are unworthy to speak my name!" Karos thrashed its tail again, smacking it hard against Cordy's legs.  
  
"Listen up, you little cretin! I'm bigger, I'm stronger, I'm prettier, and---" she held up a bag of Milanos -- "I've got the cookies. You worship me, I don't worship you. Do I make myself clear, or do I have to spank you?"  
  
"Bitch, please." Karos rolled its eyes, then instinctively snatched the cookie Cordelia tossed him.  
  
"I guess we'll have to work on this whole please-and-thank-you thing," Cordy said to the retreating baby-god, who was holding its cookie like a holy relic.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"Going out. Anyone need anything?" Angel shrugged his coat on, selecting a couple stakes from the box of wood they kept.  
  
"No, I'm well, thanks," Wesley said, taking a sip of tea. Angel blinked at him.  
  
"Hey, you're not stupid any more!"  
  
"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Cordy said. "But not as stupid, which is good."  
  
"What happened?" Angel said.  
  
Wes shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know," he said. "Honestly. It's as if I woke up from a dream. I remember being out of it, but I don't really remember it."  
  
Cordy rolled her eyes. "Crazy guy on aisle three," she said.  
  
"I AM THE GREAT AND MIGHTY KAROS, AND I WANT ANOTHER COOKIE, HUMAN SCUM!" Karos screamed from the kitchen. "YOUR FEEBLE ATTEMPTS AT HIDING THE SACRED COOKIES WILL NOT FOOL ME FOR LONG!"  
  
"The great and mighty Karos will spoil its dinner, so the great and mighty Karos is _NOT_ having another cookie!"  
  
Angel boggled. "You let it talk to you like that?"  
  
"We're still working on asking nicely. This afternoon, he even said 'please.' Of course, 'bitch' was before it, so I don't know if that counts."  
  
"That's it," Angel said. "I'm going to go have a talk with Junior." He got up and walked into the kitchen.   
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"Puny mortal!" Karos roared. "I will devour your heart and liver while you still breathe, unless you hand me the divine cookies!"  
  
"Uh, I think that would be a 'no' -- I'm not exactly breathing." Angel squatted down in front of the tiny demon, smiling at it reassuringly. "I hear you want some cookies, yeah?"  
  
"Worthless scum! How dare you talk to me as if I am a child? I will have you broiled!" Karos looked at Angel with a cautious air, weighing his options. "But yes, I yearn for these strange creations called cookies."  
  
"Well, I can help you get some."  
  
"How? The she-human wanted a magic word. I know no magic besides the War Grimoires of Kittabik'mahur. They say nothing about magic words."  
  
"What? Oh, no. In this dimension, when people want something, they are courteous."  
  
"What is 'courteous'?"  
  
"Oh," Angel said. "Um. It's nice. Being nice."  
  
"It sounds infantile to me," Karos said dismissingly. "I do not believe this courteous will be of any use to me."  
  
"Then I guess you don't want cookies." Angel smirked, standing up and grabbing the bag. "Oh, these are my favorites..." He took one from the bag, sniffing it before he took a big bite, chewing slowly. "So nice and soft and yummy..."  
  
"Asswipe!" Karos shouted. "Give me this cookie before you kill me with longing, I beg you!"  
  
"That'll do." Angel handed it two. "Remember, if you want more, you have to--"  
  
"Shay pweez," Karos said through a mouthful of cookie, then swallowed. "I understand this courteousness. It will do for now. But I get a cookie every time I say this 'magic word,' correct?"

"Yes. And if you ever talk to Cordelia again like the way you did this afternoon, I will eviscerate you. Clear?"  
  
"I am a _god_, how dare you say that to me?" Karos said indignantly. "You should be swearing fealty and undying allegiance to me instead of accusing me so! Rest assured, I will hang you by your toenails for this trespass."

"Yeah, whatever." Angel walked out. "Guys, the night's still young. I'm out of here before I kill Junior."  
  
"Later!" Cordy said.

"I'll try to find out where he came from," Wesley said, shooting up from his chair and running to his office.

"Right." Cordelia sighed, sinking into a chair. Finally, quiet-time.  
  
"I WANT TO SLEEP! NOW, HUMAN SLAVES!"  
  
"Oh, not even." Cordy hauled herself up, trudging to Karos's side. "All right, let's put you to bed, your deitic whininess."  
  
"Humph," it said, walking up the stairs at her side. "I expect you to stay beside me all through the night, in case of an assassination attempt."  
  
"Bucko, if anyone tries to kill you, it's going to be me. Are you a demon or not?"  
  
"Well, I need someone. Or my toy made from the bones of sparrows." Karos looked almost embarrassed. "It's not easy being a demon god."  
  
"Oh, yeah. All those acolytes worshipping you and giving you whatever you want. Must be real tough."  
  
They were interrupted by Wes's frantic "Cordy! Cordelia! Come look what I've found!" Cordelia could hear him giggle from below.  
  
"This had so better be a way to get your spiny self back home," she said, walking down the stairs with Karos in tow.  
  
"Look! Look!" Wesley said, running up to her and thrusting a book in her face. "I thought I'd found the answer, but that's not what I was looking for! I was looking for the question!"  
  
"Right. What was the question?"  
  
"How to get Karos back home!" Wes laughed again, shoving the book up at her. "But I found the question to the answer that I knew all along!" He smiled dazedly. "Look at it, just look."

Cordelia, thinking that the best way to shut him up was appeasement, read the passage he selected. She blinked; looked at it again, then Wesley, who was still giggling.  
  
_Floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile_

_floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile floor tile **floor tile**_  
  
"Floor tile!" Wesley said, in a way that seemed he was delivering a very grand explanation. "It's floor tile!"  
  
"That's the question. Floor tile. Floor tile is the question."

"Yes! Now you've got it!"  
  
Cordy giggled. And then laughed. The next second, she and Wes were hanging on to each other for support, laughing so hard they were crying.  
  
"This," Karos said disgustedly, "is the part where I would ingest your brains, but I fear the affliction with which you seem to be infected."  
  
"Floor tile!" Cordy said.  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	6. Act VI

**Author's Notes **are at the end for once

* * *

Angel was not in a good mood. His employees were being verbally abused by a toddler-god of the hellish variety, he was bone-tired, and the vampires just kept coming. He wanted a bathrobe, a good warm glass of blood, and a nice book, perhaps _The Karamazov Brothers _or _Winnie the Pooh Goes to Dreamland_.

Actually, _Winnie the Pooh Goes to Dreamland_ was sounding better and better, he mused, sticking a stake into a vamp.

"Hey! You stupid human!" one of the vamps shouted, clinging to his back. "Go home where you belong!"

"Newsflash," Angel said, throwing his opponent against a piece of wood jutting out from their old nest. "Not human." He vamped out, staking two at once.

There had to have been thirty or so vampires hanging around the nest, ten of which were left. Angel had been working hard for the last forty-five minutes, his mind on various other things. Namely, socks, laundry detergent, and if Cordy made her hair smell so good to torment him purposely.

She probably did.

It was time to go, he decided. Finishing his job of staking the last vampire, he walked away, brushing dust from his sleeves and slipping behind the T-bird's wheel.

_Winnie the Pooh Goes to Dreamland_ awaited him.

* * *

"Cordy… this explains everything!" Wes shouted ecstatically, waving his hand about. "The universe, life… Everything!"

"Floor tile." Cordelia blinked. "Floor tile does not explain everything, Wesley. In fact, floor tile makes me ask a hell of a lot more questions than it answered. And those have to do with your sanity. British. God."

"No… that's -- that's the point of floor tile, Cordelia! It makes you ask questions!" His eyes were alight with devout passion, and he grinned as he thought of all the cosmic mysteries he could unlock with the power of the floor tile.

"You're joking, aren't you?" One look at his face gave her the answer. "Sweet baby Jesus. You're not joking."

"Cordy, won't you just think of the possibilities? We could rule the world! We could be emperors! Greater than Rome, greater than Greece, greater than Egypt!_ We could be Gods!_"

"I got Karos to sleep five minutes ago. If you wake him up, I'm going to remove your spleen with a spoon." Cordy crossed her arms. "I'll leave you and your precious floor tile alone."

"Cordelia, don't--"

"Quiet, Wesley. Remember: spleen. Spoon." She closed the door quietly, grabbing the phone and hitting a speed dial number.

"Welcome to Peking-Moon! We do delivery and dine-in. What you want?"

"Hello, this is Cordelia Chase--"

"Ms Chase! Good hear from you. Been long-long time. You want usual?"

"Yes, the usual will be fine. Can I have some chopsticks, please?"

"You want chopsticks?"

"Sure, send some over."

"You sure you no want chopsticks?"

"Throw in two extra pairs, I might share."

"Okay, we send chopsticks over anyway. You might change mind. Bye!" Cordelia hung up, shaking her head.

"Problems, Cordy?" Angel asked behind her. She turned around, seeing him a few feet away, leaning against the wall.

"You have to stop sneaking up on me. And yes. Everyone is completely stupid." Cordy sighed grumpily, glaring at the phone. "I ordered Chinese."

"That's fine," Angel said. "A little soy sauce makes the blood tastier." Cordelia looked away, hiding her brief disgusted expression. "You do have money for it, right?"

Cordelia turned her head back around, twining a lock of hair around her finger. "You do owe me for saving you from that espresso machine…"

"I do not. If memory serves -- and over the course of two hundred years, I've forgotten nothing -- _I_ was the one who killed that." Angel folded his arms across his chest, resolutely ignoring her cute face.

"You're both wrong," Wesley said, having managed to open the door (Cordelia had barred it with a chair) to his office. "_I_ poured holy water on it. Cordy trying to hit you up for money, eh?"

"Yeah," Angel said. "C'est la vie."

"Well, you'll have that." Wes laughed at Cordelia's frustrated face.

"Hey Angel," she cut in, scathingly. "I didn't know you were French."

"Well, obviously; I'm Irish."

"Yeah, but the French are always taking things back." She folded her arms, moving her head from side to side in an 'Oh, snap!' sort of way.

"Oh, yes, Cordelia, that's a riot. Using ethnic stereotypes to make a weak joke. Terribly witty. We quail at the face of your superior intellect." Wes sighed.

"Well, we're quailing at the face of something," Angel added. "But it's sure not your intellect!"

"Ssh, you're going to wake Karos!" Cordelia said, looking about worriedly.

"You mean you finally got the 'blight of nine realms' down to sleep?" Angel asked. "Miracles really do still happen."

"Ha, ha, ha," Cordy said, sourly. "You just try to get him to go back to sleep when he comes barreling down here, asking for a cookie with his big brown eyes--"

"They're red," Wes pointed out.

"FILTHY HUMAN SCUM-SLAVES! I HAVE SOURED MY SHEETS! I REQUIRE YOUR ASSISTANCE!" Karos hollered.

"I am so not doing that," Cordy said. "I didn't even change my sheets when I wet the bed."

"Ew," Wesley said. "Ew."

"Oh, I didn't mean that!" Cordy looked horrified. "No, no! I had my nanny do it!"

"Of course," Wesley said dryly. "I repeat -- ew. That is as sick or sicker than the idea of Marlon Brando making love with Rosie O'Donnell."

"I hate you," Angel put in, "for that god awful mental image."

"Likewise," Cordelia added. "Wes, go help Karos with his sheets. You look like you were a bed-wetter."

"Profiler!" Wesley snapped, going upstairs like he was walking the length of Death Row. "I was not. I had a bladder malfunction."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." Cordy turned away. "My food should be here soon. I have to have money. I'll pay you back when I get a good gig."

"You know, I sat down once and figured up that once you get a good gig, roughly five thousand dollars of your paycheck will go to me."

"That's not fair!" Cordy looked horrified.

"Well, I didn't even begin to figure in interest," Angel said, "but I can if you think that will make it fairer."

"Er, sure," Cordy said. "Listen, I know you hate to hear this, but I _will_ pay you back when I get a good gig, Angel. I promise. I swear!"

"On what?" He looked suspicious -- Cordelia couldn't blame him.

"A rosary!"

"You're not religious. That holds no value."

"Just, please, Angel? Please?"

"Only because you have weird visions." Angel took out his wallet. "How much?"

"Thirty-five dollars."

"With the tip?"

"No, I have enough money for that."

"How in the _hell_ did you spend thirty-five dollars on egg rolls and dim sum?!"

Cordy cringed, turning red.

"Never mind," Angel said. "Never mind…" He took out two twenties, handing them to her. "I'm not made of money, though."

"Of course not!" Cordy jumped at him, giving him a hug (after making sure the bills were securely in her pocket). "If you were, you wouldn't be nearly as huggable!" Angel sighed.

"Chinese, lady! You order Chinese!" The delivery boy banged on the door. "You order Chinese!"

"What good timing!" Cordy jumped away, answering the door. The rising sun startled her, blinding her temporarily. "Wow, is it really morning?" Angel moved away from the sun hastily. "Here you go…" She took the overly large plastic bag he handed her, gladly. "Keep the change, Son-Yu." Nudging the door shut with her foot, she set the bags down on her desk, knocking various knick-knacks and curios onto the floor as she plundered her swag.

"They forgot the chopsticks!"

"What?"

"I asked her to put _three pairs_ in here! And she didn't even put in one! Old _hag!_" Cordelia swore under her breath. "I can't believe this!"

"It's all right. It's just Chinese."

"It is _not_ just Chinese! These are the best egg-rolls ever! They are like… like… heaven, in a way!"

"Just calm down," Angel said, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. "It's fine, Cordelia, it's fine. Just breathe."

"Haha, I'm so amused by the vampire-humor." Cordy pulled a bag of plastic silverware out of her desk drawer, grabbing a plastic fork and a random box. "Ooh, mushu pork!"

"Soy sauce?" Angel pleaded. Cordy threw a couple packets at him from the bottom of the bag. He grinned triumphantly and headed to the kitchen.

Wes came down, Karos holding one of his hands as he carefully held the smelly, sodden bedclothes away from them with the other. "Ooh, Chinese! Peking-Moon?"

"Peking-Moon." She closed her eyes, an expression of utter delight washing over her face. "Also known as the best thing ever."

"What is this Pee King Moo En? Are you making fun of me for my bladder problem?" Karos asked indignantly.

Cordy chuckled. "No, no, we promise. Peking Moon is a restaurant."

"I'm going to go throw these in the washing machine. Stay here with Cordelia." He walked away. Karos trotted over to her, hopping up on the desk beside her.

"Want a bite?" she asked, extending the fork to it. Its forked tongue snaked out, wrapping around the fork and pulling the food from it. She laughed, relinquishing the fork and getting another one. "I've got another box of mushu in here… Ah, here we are." Cordy opened it for it, handing it over.

Karos watched her movements closely, awkwardly holding the fork as it copied her motions. Cordy furrowed her eyebrow as she looked at it.

"Haven't you ever fed yourself before?" she asked.

"No!" Karos said, quite self-righteous. "I have thousands of slaves who would do it for me in a moment."

"Right. So, what you wanna do is…"

They were a few minutes into Eating 101 when Wesley came hurrying back up the stairs.

"I know it!" he shouted, exultant. "I know how to send you back home, Karos!"

"How?" Cordy asked.

"It's simple! It's so bloody simple!"

"Then what _is_ it?" Karos snarled.

"Floor tile!"

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Yeah. Sorry about the hold-up. Thanks to all who reviewed! Just the epilogue left to go now. Thanks to **Christy Corr**, without whom about half of this wouldn't have been done. Please read and review! 


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